#ikemen villains angst

[omkookie]

⌕ :IKEMEN_VILLAINS

⌕ Dumb ikevil memes

YANDERE

You're not getting away! You're his. / Liam

Insanity / Elbert

ANGST

...

SMUT

Hate sex pt 1 / Roger, William, Alfons. (Angsty)

Hate sex pt 2 / Liam, Elbert, Jude. (Angsty)

So beautiful / Elbert

Pervert!Alfons

The ex doctor / Roger ⚠️ (Dubcon)

I don't think we'll ever be done with you / Jude, Roger, and Ellis together ⚠️ (NONCON)

[kibby-reaper]

is this how we hope his route is eventually gonna go

- mod kibby

[bontu-the-l0ver]

The angel of crown.

Kinda sad, it covers delicate topics. But I promise I will make it a happy story at the end tehee.

Part 1.

Everyone in crown was resting, they didn't have missions to attend.

Elbert wasn't sleeping so he was walking on the garden when he heard someone between the bushes, He thought it could be an animal so he just kept walking but once again stopped when from the bushes came out a cat running and then a little girl trying to catch the cat.

- Hey... You shouldn't be here.

Elbert said catching the girls attention who turned to face Elbert.

- Are you Victor? - She asked.

-No...

- I'm looking for him, I have a letter from the Queen.

The little girl showed a letter, Elbert took the letter and saw that it was correct, it was a letter from the Queen.

- Why did she sent a kid to sent a letter?...

He asked to himself but then offered a hand to the little girl who took it.

- I will take you to Victor.

Elbert guided the girl inside the castle, knock on the door of Victor.

- Oh my sweet El-... A kid?

- I found her, she has a letter from her majesty.

Elbert gave the letter to Victor as the girl started to play with Elbert's cape not paying attention to Victor.

- Ah... Well... Let me read this.

Victor still stemmed confused as he read the letter but once he proceed the information he smiled.

- Ah! What a nice news!

- What does it say?

- I will tell you tomorrow with the others.

Victor took the girl and carried her.

- It's too late in the night and this girl needs to sleep.

Elbert only looked more confused but nodded as he let Victor take care of the girl.

The next day during the morning everyone was eating breakfast or they were going to but they were confused and amazed by the little girl having breakfast with them.

- Why is a kid with us? - Harry asked.

- I fond her last night, she was sent by the Queen I think- Elbert answered.

- Little one do you want to use a spoon? - Alfons offered her.

- What us a spoon? - the girl asked.

- She doesn't know what a spoon is? That explains why she is trying to eat with her hands- Ellis answered.

As they saw the kid eat whit her hands Victor entered the room

- Good morning my cursed boys! ~~... And girl...

- And girl? Is she also cursed? - Elbert asked.

- How intelligent you are! Yes, she is also cursed.

Everyone listened but the question of what she was doing here was still on the air.

- I'm sure you're wondering and what? Well, the Queen sent her to live with us so we can support her with her curse.

After Victor spoke they all keep silence for a while but then Liam decide to agree.

- I think she can stay.

- Ya' kiddin'? - Jude asked.

- No, I'm not.

- I don't think a kid should stay with us.- Roger answered.

The tension was dense, William thought while listening to them then spoke.

- Let's not be cruel to the little one, if she has a curse it would be better for her to be around people with curses. I think a lot of us would have liked someone to guide us.

Everyone keeps quiet as they think and they see a the kid still eating messy.

- I can help take care of her- Ellis offered himself.

- I can help too! - Liam said happily.

- I don't think I can take care of a kid but I have to teach her some manners, she can go around the world not knowing what a spoon is Alfons answered.

- I guess I don't mind playing with her a bit. - Elbert spoke.

Victor smiled seeing them Agree however Jude, Harrison and Roger didn't seem to be completely in.

- I ain't takin' care of her... - Jude said. -

- Not into kids, sorry. - Harrison spoke.

- Well, if I can get some information from her would be nice but I won't be helping babysitting her.- Roger said.

Victor didn't say much but was happy to see Ellis and Liam ready to help and the little help from Elbert and Alfons.

- Okay, Roger can you help us check on her? I don't know much about her and I doubt she knows if she has any allergy or something. - Victor requested.

Roger didn't seem happy about it but didn't complain, the last thing he wanted was a little kid dying because she is allergic at something so with Liam and Ellis distracting her Roger got ready to check on her.

Roger started checking her reflex but started to notice her reflex were... Unusual...

- Hey little one. - Roger spoke. - Tell me... What did you used to eat with your mama and papa.

- I don't remember the name but it was hard to bite.

Roger started to think what she could mean.

- Maybe her family was poor and she means some old bread? - Ellis suggested.

-Maybe. - Roger answered. - Anything else young lady?

- Oh, those little animals that hide between the walls.

Liam and Ellis were smiling trying to confort her but when she mentioned that they went serious, even Roger.

- You mean... Rats?... - Liam asked.

- I don't know their names. - The girl answered.

Liam looked at Ellis who looked back at Liam and back at Roger who was too stunned to keep writing.

- What-... What about your name? - Roger tried to lift the mood.

- I have a lot of names. - The girl said happily.

- Wich one you like most? - Liam asked.

- uh... Bitch!

They went silent again. They had an idea where this was going and they don't like it.

Roger gulped and moved her clothes too see her skin just to find horrible bruises.

- Well... Little lady... I need you to remove your clothes. - Roger said, he needed to check for any wound.

- No! The queen told me you weren't gonna play with me.

At the answer they knew it was what they feared. Roger took two paper sheets, in one he drew a little map and in the other a little letter.

- Little Girl, follows this map to the Kitchen, you will see people there, give them this letter and they will give you food.

- Food!

The girl took the map and run following the map.

- Let's tell Victor.

[fairylibe]

phantom of a hand.

856 words. angst. very tiny spoilers for alfons’ rt. features: “alfons sylvatica” × gn! reader.

꒰ summary ꒱ you go to the festival and feel a phantom of a voice; you go to the room and feel a phantom of a hand.

that pie throwing festival was fun.

“your face’s wide open!” the splat of pie cream could be heard as something collided with your face before you could dodge.

“one point for the red team!”

there was little time to wipe your face clean; plates of pies were being thrown everywhere in the open park, and you hardly wanted to miss out.

you could always take a bath afterward. that’s what you had always done, after all.

…wasn’t it?

“take that!” you shouted, bursting into laughter as the pie you threw flew in the air in an arched trajectory before falling flat on someone’s chest.

hearty laughter and shouting could be heard across the entire park. you could dodge some shots — though maybe at the expense of another person — but right now, in this very moment, you just wanted to relish in the lively noise.

a sense of urgent desire drove your actions. it was as though a phantom was beside you, whispering the very words, “there is nothing more important than living in the moment, (y/n).”

because you knew that when everything ended, you would walk into the quiet of the city.

it was a strangely familiar sensation, as though you had walked these very streets, after the very same festival, sometime before. you had placed your arm on the rail somewhere near the lamppost that was about to light up the streets in lieu of the sun, looking out into the city from a distance.

it was all too familiar, yet foreign at the same time. or perhaps, something was missing, as though you were missing a single piece of a puzzle.

the picture was mostly complete, except for one thing.

but what was that thing?

every time you passed around this bridge, even during the day, you would feel a tiny twinge in your heart. it was like someone was wringing it.

someone you didn’t know.

you had a feeling you were forgetting something that truly mattered to you.

the ache was always there, but for some odd reason you couldn’t quite pin down. the ache morphed into pain, opening a hole in your heart, until your vision blurred.

was it because of how quiet and somber your surroundings had become after engaging in something so boisterous and lively?

only the gentle breeze could answer, drying your cheeks of the tears that fell.

—

the room when you came in was empty enough to leave behind no sign of life. it was not dusty enough, however, to suggest any abandonment.

after all, you had always kept it clean.

you didn’t know why, but you felt a deep attachment to this room. when you asked around, though, everyone had claimed no one has ever occupied this room before.

was this also a feeling induced by another life?

you walked around the room, tracing your fingers around the spotless furniture. finally, your hands stopped on a black cloth that covered something rather tall and narrow, if the cloth could hug its edges. before, you had a strange feeling, much like what you had felt before in the city around the bridge, that you shouldn’t touch that cloth.

but today, you found the courage in you to defy that voice that told you otherwise.

gripping the black cloth, you pulled it toward you, removing it and revealing what was beneath it all along.

the sight took your breath away.

before you was a mirror, tall enough to reflect your whole person. yet, due to how shattered it was on the surface, your own reflection became distorted with the fractures in the glass.

it looked as though someone had punched through it.

but who?

against your better judgment, your fingers made their way to the mirror’s surface, feeling something like a magnetic attraction. but you ended up cutting one of your fingertips, causing you to wince and immediately draw back, the pain breaking you from the mysterious spell this “magic mirror” had placed on you.

when you looked at your index finger, red blossomed from where you had cut it.

“i do find it oddly curious how you seem to have a penchant for getting hurt like this.”

who was that? this voice…

“well? let me see the cut.”

that’s right… this voice… his name was——

your thought abruptly cut off there, and once again, tears started to flow, though it didn’t occur to you that you were crying until you heard yourself hiccup.

you raised your arm to your face, wiping your tears with the back of your hand. but alas, it was a futile effort.

“hehe, first you cut yourself and now you shed tears like this. you truly are a handful sometimes. and yet, i do find your tears ever so endearing.”

you no longer knew if you were crying because of the cut on your finger, or because of the phantom warmth you felt on your cheek from someone you no longer remembered.

but if you knew one thing…

it was that the tears couldn’t stop falling to the ground now — as there was no longer any hand to catch them.

fin.

꒰ tag list . ꒱ @drachonia @weepinglycoris @letter-from-afar @candiedcoffeedrops @.comment to be added or removed!

[revasserium]

lie to me

harrison; 1,872 words; fluff and a bit of angst; fem!reader a/n: in which harrison tells you five lies and just as many truths

01.

“lie to me.”

“i love you.”

“ah, but that’s an easy one — how could you be in love with someone you just met, right?”

you smile, lacing your fingers under your chin as he looks you over, the smile on your lips simple and sweet and somehow unsettling in its simplicity. there’s something hidden there — he knows it. he just doesn’t know exactly what it is yet and… that in and of itself is intriguing enough to warrant a second glance, a second’s pause.

“go on, isn’t this supposed to be what you’re good at?” you ask, cocking your head, your eyes never leaving his.

harrison feels himself being drawn into you, the unflinching way you meet his gaze, the seemingly indomitable nature of your curiosity, your striking, painful honesty. ah — so is that what it is? has he gotten so used to the truth hidden beneath the lies that seeing truth hidden behind another veneer of truth has become strange? certainly, it’s not something he sees everyday but…

“alright then — i don’t love you, but i think that maybe i could —”

eh?

you blink, but harrison is already pursing his lips with a shrug, pushing up from where he’d been sitting across from you, your coffee mugs still steaming.

“there, ponder that one for a while, hm?” he grins, shooting a lazy wink your way, “and… that confused look on your face… i don’t hate it, y’know.”

02.

“lie to me.”

“my favorite color is yellow.”

“well, mine’s green.”

harrison looks up at you from across a piece of perfectly buttered toast, his mouth halfway open, watching as you slather your slice of toast in a truly impressive amount of jam. you’re humming to yourself and when you glance up to find him watching you, you shrug.

“what?”

harrison smiles, shaking his head, “nothing. just… ah — nevermind.”

“no, tell me.” you take a huge bite of toast and he can’t help the way his eyes snag on the smear of jam on your lower lip or the way your tongue sweeps out to lick it up.

“nope. don’t wanna.” he takes his own rather large bite of toast, washing it down with a sip of coffee that’s just a bit too hot.

“even if i say ‘please’?”

harrison pauses, considers. and then he smiles.

“for a second there, i just thought you were… cute.”

your blush makes something warm and tight unfurl in his chest. but you narrow your eyes and the tension inside his chest lightens ever so slightly.

“saah… was that a lie or was it the truth?” he muses, reaching out to tap a finger to the center of your forehead, making you blink, “well, you can believe whatever you want to believe. i don’t mind it either way.”

03.

“lie to me.”

“i actually don’t really like lying.”

you pause over the still-warm cranberry scones, your hand hovering over the butter dish.

“then why do you do it?”

harrison licks his lips, his eyes fixed on yours. he feels the beginnings of something cresting from his stomach up into his chest, over his shoulders, down the length of his back. it’s a strange thing, a nearly foreign sensation. but it leaves his whole body a mess a livewire tingles, and it makes him wonder about stupid things like truth and trust and belonging.

“because… it’s easy, i suppose.”

you nod, slowly breaking off a corner of a scone, and applying a liberal amount of butter to it before offering it to him. on the windowsill, there’s a vase full of bright yellow tulips, freshly picked and watered.

“my parents always said that if you tell a lie enough times, it starts to sound like the truth.”

“hm… they sound like smart people.” he reaches out to take the bit of proffered scone, popping it into his mouth and savoring the sweetness.

you watch him with a grin, “they were.”

a moment passes, and then another; harrison reaches for the sugar bowl at the same time you do and your hands brush. you pause; so does he. and then — laughter, as he pushes the bowl towards you and you shake your head, nudging it back.

“three sugars, right?” you ask, watching as he drops the cubes into his coffee and stirs.

“what can i say? i’ve got something of a sweet-tooth.”

“yeah. i know you do.”

04.

“lie to me… please — t-tell me everything’s gonna be okay.”

there’s blood everywhere, and the world is around you is a blur of rain and shadows. the streetlamps cast the air in a hazy glow and it would be beautiful, if it weren’t so deeply, horrifyingly terrible.

you cradle harrison to your chest, a hand pressed to the side of his stomach, where a sickeningly hot stream of blood is pouring from a bullet wound, your other hand holding his head upright.

“i — i think i’m gonna die,” he says, forcing a weak smile as he raises a hand to cup your cheek.

“h-harry! that’s not — that’s not funny —” but you can’t help the watery laugh that bubbles from your lips.

“you — you told me to lie to you… right? so…”

you bite back a sob even as it rips itself from your throat and you shake your head.

“y’know… you’ve gotten s-so bad at this…”

harrison’s own laughter is stuttered through with coughs. more blood, painting the soft of his lips so bright it almost looks like lipstick or strawberry jam. you reach up your hand to wipe it away, smearing the red across his cheeks.

he catches your hand in his, and the cliché of the moment hits you like a runaway train, veering off it’s tracks — the rain, the blood, the falling in love.

“what… at lying? ah… i guess that’s true… hey… look at me…” he presses his blood-stained lips to your hand before resting it along his cheek, holding it there even as more blood gurgles out of the side of his mouth. you try to tug your hand to wipe it away but he holds you tight, holds you dear.

“there you are…” he says, his eyes flickering over the plains of your face, “i su-suppose you might make an honest man of me yet…”

you shake your head again, fervent and desperate.

“no — i d-don’t want that — harry, please — you can’t —”

“m-my favorite color… didn’t used to be yellow… but now it is… and… i never did like lying… but i hated doing it to you… and… i never thought i could fall in love but… here i am… so there — i — i think that’s most of them —”

“harry, what are y-you doing?”

“i’m… telling you the truth. now… your turn — lie… lie to me.”

you let out another sob as you see the light from his eyes slowly fading, even as the distant sounds of shouting alert you to the ambulance racing your way.

“i-if you die, i swear to god, harry — i’ll chase you right into the gates of hell and pull you back with me —”

harrison laughs, his hand falling from yours, his lashes fluttering as his gaze goes wide and glazed.

“now that’s a lie… i’d be happy to believe…”

05.

when harrison next wakes up, it’s to a nearly pitch-black hospital room and a solid weight somewhere to his right. he lets out a soft groan and looks down to find… you, with your face pillowed on your arms, fast asleep by his bedside.

“she’s been here for three whole days.” victor’s voice is light but for once devoid of it’s usual levity.

“ah… of course she has.” harrison reaches out to run his fingers through your hair, a smile stretching his lips at the way your brows furrow slightly, your body shifting as he traces a thumb along the contours of your cheek.

“try not to excite her too much… she’s barely been eating or sleeping so who know’s — her heart might give out if you give her too big of a shock.” and with that, victor tips his head and slips from the room, leaving the two of you very much alone.

harrison revels in the quiet, in the patient pace of your breaths, the rise and fall of his own chest, his own miraculous heartbeat mapped in bright green spikes on a screen to his left. and he wonders briefly how quickly it’d have to beat before it would alert the nurses but —

“h-harry? oh… oh my god — you’re awake!”

“hm… really? ah, and here i was, thinking this was all a dream.”

you bury your face in his chest, gasping when he winces, but he chuckles and tugs you back towards him, his seafoam eyes so bright even in the relative darkness.

“i — i thought…”

“what? that i was dead? c’mon… i’m not that easy to get rid of.”

you bite your lips, shake your head, your eyes welling up with tears as you once again bury your face in his chest, this time careful to avoid his still tender wounds. he hushes you as you hiccup, running a soothing hand through your hair, down the back of your neck.

“i’m just… so glad y-you’re alive…”

harrison grins, cocking his head as you pull back to look at him, your eyes wide and watery and so, so beautiful. it’s unfair, he decides, that you should still look so daringly beautiful like this.

“come here… there’s something i need to tell you…”

you blink at him for a moment before allowing him to beckon you closer, to wrap his arms around you and skim his lips by your cheek till he’s whispering in your hear —

“i… i don’t love you… not even a little bit.”

and for a second, you freeze, your whole body going cold, but when you pull back, there’s a smile on harrison’s lips that makes you roll your eyes. you let out a soft little sigh, pillowing your cheek on his chest as he absently brushes a strand of hair behind your ear.

“wow… when did you become such a terrible liar?”

at this, harrison laughs, and he hisses at the pain but he doesn’t stop laughing, and a moment later you join him, and the pair of you fall into the waves and waves of laughter until he tilts your chin up to press his lips to yours.

“if i had to guess…” he muses as he pulls back, running the pad of his thumb along your bottom lip, his eyes flickering from your kiss-bruised mouth up to your shock-widened eyes and back down again, a distinctly fox-like grin stretching his lips.

“i’d say that it was the day that i met you.”

[sunshine-and-her-ikevil-stuff]

Thinking about getting super drunk and accidentally confessing to Alfons that you have feelings for him, but kept your distance because you're sure he'll never return them.

And during it all you accidentally say "I love you," and instantly start bawling your eyes out because you think he's going to leave you and run away for saying that

[rawr-mortgage]

Quotes that remind me of The Alice Gang

1. Grief Lessons: Four Plays by Euripides, Anne Carson / 2. Waiting for Godot, Samuel Beckett / 3. Orestes by Euripides, trans. E.P. Coleridge / 4. H of H Playbook, Anne Carson / 5. Electra, Sophocles / 6. Antigone, Jean Anouilh 7. Orestes by Euripides, trans. Phillip Vellacot / 8. Eurydice, Sarah Ruhl / 9. unknown / 10-11-17. Norwegian Wood, Haruki Murakami / 12. The Four Loves, C.S. Lewis / 13. For Good, Wicked the Musical (2003) / 14. Hannibal Screenplay Season 3 Ep. 3 “Secondo”, Bryan Fuller / 15. @esakao on tumblr / 16. Mark of Athena, Rick Riordan

[ikeprinces-stuff]

Finished William T-Rex's route...

Finally...

I didn't enjoy his route very much... 😬

Because of my laziness, it took me two months to finish it from the time the game was released until today...

Don't get me wrong, I liked him as a character but not to the point of making him my no. 1 favorite

The CG is pretty tho, I like how Komadori look here

[sonicsquid3000]

What if William made MC forget about him completely?

If you wanna skip the introduction you can scroll down to the next paragraph. This is my first post every here and my first fanfiction. This is from the dating game ikemen villains that just released to the US recently and I'm very excited. I've just started the game and I'm currently on chapter 6 on my William Rex route. (I'd be further but I'm broke :')) Even so, i already have angst prepared. Keep in mind none of this is cannon what so ever and everything can and will be inaccurate to the game timeline. Also I will be using my mc's name rather than the in game name. If people like it a lot and want a y/n version of the fanfic I will gladly make another. If you want a proper, more brushed up version of the fanfic, you can find it on AO3 (once i get my account that is) Anyway, enough talk. Lets get into it! Warning: grammatical errors

It was beautiful day in London which was quite rare considering how gloomy the city could be. Belle was sitting on a bench in a park reading her rendition of Lewis Carrol's "Alice in Wonderland" that had released a few decades ago. She was dressed in a simple yet fine dress of browns and greys, befitting of the current fashion period, complementing her warm caramel skin. Her ebony hair was picked up in a beautiful bun with a few strands of hair gently arranged. She looked far more elegant than compared to a few years ago when she was just a letter carrier, barely making it by.

She enjoyed reading her book along with hearing the sounds of the birds chirping, the carriages rolling by, and the few bits of laughter and giggling of children off in the distance. But all of that was interrupted when she heard one important voice call out to her. "Isabelle!" the man shouted, catching up to her. She looked up and smiled seeing who it was. She closed her book and got up from the bench and approached him. She felt warm and fuzzy just as much as she did when she first laid her eyes on him. Just as handsome as he ever was. He was the one man that could make her feel like she was in the stars above. The love of her life. Her dearest and darling husband........ Bryan Bennett.

When she finally approached him, she gave him a deep and loving kiss and he returned it with the same amount of tenderness. "I thought I had lost you there for a moment." he said with a smile. "Oh, and i brought you these." He then handed Belle a bouquet of flowers made from an assortment of red, pink, and yellow carnations, daffodils, butterfly weed, hyssop's and forget-me-not's. "Oh, these are beautiful! Thank you Bryan." Belle said as she gave him a gentle kiss on the cheek. "Come my dear. Lets not be late for the play." He said as he offered his arm to her. Belle gladly accepted as they made their way out of the park.

As they left the park, Belles eyes caught upon a man that made her blood run cold. William Rex. The last she saw of him, he invited her to one of his social gatherings where he made here feel welcomed at first but was quickly cornered by him. He would've done who knows what had it not been for her now husband. On one hand, thanks to him, the two of them were able to meet and fall in love. Then again, she shutters from the thought of that memory. As they walked by, he gave a smile. For what, she was unsure. He then walked away to who knows where. Every time she saw him, she felt unease and nervous around him. Yet at the same time, deep inside of her, a small part of her felt sad every time she saw him. Why, she was not sure. She payed no mind and walked with her husband to the theater.

*Flashback*

"No! I'm not leaving!" Belle yelled. "Belle please, your month is over and your free to go back to your normal life. This isn't a place you want to remain in" William urged her, sounding completely different from when they first met. "I know and I don't care! I can't.... I can't leave you." she whisperd. "Belle..." he said heartbroken. "You once told me," she started "that I was the only person who had the power to voice how my heart feels. I always ignored it, fearing of bothering others or getting my heart broken. But now I'm listening to what you said and telling you I love you. I did ever since I bumped into you in one of my deliveries. Yes, I was scared when I first saw you kill that man. But you've shown me there's more to you than that. You're kind and sweet and always care about how I or others feel. You commit crimes but you do it for good and the good of others. and no matter how much you or others may call you a villain, your not. You're a hero." "Belle, please..." William pleaded. "Let me stay with you William. Please... I love you..." Belle begged. "I......." he had the words stuck in his throat. He reached out his hand, about to cup her face. His hands were shaking as he could barely keep his composure. ".......I'm sorry." He said and he placed his outstretched hand on her shoulder. "What are you-" "SLEEP." He commanded. She could feel his power taking over. She tried her hardest to resist, but nothing was powerful enough to break Williams command. As she was about to collapse, He caught her and swiftly carried her bridal style. He always hated using his power, and the last person he ever wanted to use it on was Belle. But he had no choice.

***

"You used your power on her?!" Victor yelled. "I know, I shouldn't have. But there was no other choice." William explained. "William, I understand that you love her very much, but this is much farther than you normal prefer to go. I mean, forcing her to stay-" "She wanted to stay." William interrupted. "I... I couldn't let her. I went too far and now she wants to get caught up in this world we live in. We're cursed Victor. One day we'll meet a horrible end. And I...... I cant do that to Belle. I can't leave her heartbroken and miserable after I die." William said as a single tear began to roll down his cheek. "My god..." Victor exclaimed. "You really fell hard for this one, haven't you?" William gave a soft, sad nod.

Victor sighed "I did warn her not to get attached to anyone in the crown.... So, how do you propose we fix this dilemma?" William rummaged through his coat and grabbed a very special book that belonged to Belle. "You don't mean-" Victor gasped. "Belle has the fairy tale keepers blessing. And that blessing is imbued in this book." William explained. "The power to write ones fate." Victor breathed "Yes. The power has only ever been to record the events of history and fairy tales. Setting them all in stone. But what if we can change the story?" William suggested. "No! That is too risky!" Victor yelled. "You don't know what that can do! How would you even-?!" "I know the exact moment to change." William said, turning to the page of their first date. When he invited her to one of his special tea parties and introduced her to Bryan Bennett.

She was a big fan of his journalism and activism but she was to nervous to speak to him. So William cornered her to all wall to catch Bryan's attention. She was in no danger what so ever. He simply played the part of the villain and led her to her knight in shinning armor. She quickly realized this and was more flustered than she was angry.

Victor frowned. "She holds this memory dear to her. You know that, right?" William sighed. "I know. But this is the only way" William said as he grabbed the nearest pen. "....... You do realize you'll forever be the villain her story?" Victor warned. William froze by then, turned to him and gave him a melancholy smile. "... When have we ever not been the villain?" With that final remark, he took his pen and erased nearly everything. Every encounter, every emotion, every tender moment between the two. He erased there the crown and how she met them. He erased their final days together. All he left, was that one night together and changed it so that he could, in now way, redeemable. Every scratch of those beautiful words she wrote about him was like a dagger to his heart. It broke him to erase the moments they had. But there was no other way to protect her. He had to do it....

*present*

As William was on a walk for his next mission, he stopped and saw Belle happy with her husband Bennett. He smiled at the two sadly. Everything before still happened. Belle spent a month with the crown, her and William still had their dates and they still fell in love. The only difference was that Belle had no recollection of their time together or the crown. For all she knew, William was a cruel and manipulative man. The thought stung him. He never thought he would feel so horrible about being seen as a villain until she came along. No matter what she may think, he would always love her. As the couple walked out of the park, Belle caught a glimpse of William. He gave her a soft smile and walked away. Not wanting to ruin her happily ever after.

[nightghoul381]

Hello! Can I request a Ellis x fem!reader fic?

Genre: Angst

Prompt: Reader's dating Ellis because she fell in love with his supportive and caring side. However after a while reader notices he's actually kind to everyone and starts doubting if he truly loves her or just agree to date out of kindness.

Ty in advance🩵

Hello Anon, finally came across a day I was feeling angsty enough to write this. I hope you enjoy it!

Pairing: Ellis Twilight x Reader Genre: Angst WC: ~1k CW: Feelings of inadequacy and generally not a pleasant read.

A/N: Feeling depressed today definitely pushed me to write this, trying to get some of my emotions out... ended up writing another, more angsty and sad story immediately after this... not sure if I'm going to share that one though.

Reader's dating Ellis because she fell in love with his supportive and caring side. However after a while reader notices he's actually kind to everyone and starts doubting if he truly loves her or just agree to date out of kindness.

It’s not supposed to feel this way. Being in a relationship, you’re supposed to feel like the other is genuinely happy to be with you, to spend time with you, the love you. But these days it feels like a façade. Does he truly want to be in a relationship? Is he only dating you because you agreed it would make you happy?

Ellis is incredibly sweet, caring and attentive…to everyone. At first, you hadn’t really acknowledged that he treated everyone this way. You were spending quite a lot of time with him one on one between missions and had grown to love that gentle, eager to please side of him that he so rarely didn’t show. You had gotten used to him bending over backwards to do things to make you happy.

In those days you’d told yourself that he must be interested in you, otherwise, why would he be working so hard to make you happy? Surely he must be interested in more…right?

The way he smiled when you asked him to be your boyfriend made your heart sing. You know now that the brightness in his eyes was purely due to you expressing your own happiness. He couldn’t care less about the status of your relationship. His only focus was happiness.

The happiness of you, of the other members of Crown, of anyone he seemed to come across.

The kindness you had felt was unique to you started showing up more and more in his interactions with other people. The soft smile upon seeing the joy on a child’s face as he gave them a sweet. The way he would always ask, ‘would that make you happy?’…all of his previously sweet and endearing qualities now seemed like a slap in the face.

Even asking him about it was pointless. He would look at you with those puppy dog eyes and you couldn’t continue asking him why he didn’t treat you any different from anyone else. You had once tried to ask him if he was happy being in a relationship with you. He turned it around saying that if you were happy, then he was happy.

He wasn’t invested in the relationship like you were. He just wanted everyone to be happy. Everyone, equally. There was no room in his heart for someone to stand out and take priority. It was too painful to see how much his devotion to you was really just him being kind as he is with everyone.

You thought you could make things different, that you could at least get him to fall for you. You were dating, after all. So try as you might to draw out any inner feelings he may have, he remained the same. His face plastered with that sweet, gentle smile that you had fallen for, always asking if you were happy.

It’s becoming too much. You need this to stop. It hurts knowing you aren’t good enough to change his mind. That you aren’t enough at all.

That’s why you’re here now, seated across from him at a small café. You can’t get too upset if you’re around people.

“Ellis. I need to know,” you start, voice shaky and throat tight.

“Am I special to you?” Ellis gave his trademark smile and nodded. “Of course you are. I love it when you’re happy. It makes me happy when others are happy.”

You let out an exasperated sigh. “I don’t want to be like ‘others’ I want you to care more about my happiness than anyone else’s. And more than that. I need to know. Do you want to be with me? Regardless of my opinion or whether or not it will make me happy. I need you to tell me. Does being in a relationship mean anything to you?”

Ellis looks stunned for a moment, before his mouth sets in a straight line and his eyes close.

“You looked so happy when you asked me to be your boyfriend. I had to keep that happiness on your face,” he admits finally, his sunset eyes easing open and fixing on you.

“I want you to be happy. I want to make you happy.”

The additional words seem to fall over you like a bucket of cold water. He didn’t care. This relationship was built on nothing more than your own infatuation. He wasn’t interested in a relationship, not with you, not with anybody. He just did whatever would earn him a smile.

The realization that this whole time you were the only one developing feelings, the only one craving time together, the only one hiding yourself between the false smile you always wore these days.

You stood up, fighting to stop the way your body was trembling as you look at Ellis and say,

“I don’t think this relationship is going to work. I’m going to go now.”

Ellis looks surprised, asking you why you would want such a thing when you were so happy with him… why wouldn’t you want to keep being happy.

At last you look at him and spit out your parting words, “I can’t be happy with you. Seeing the way you treat everyone the exact same way you teat me, hurts more than you can ever know. I’m supposed to be the most important person in your life. I am clearly not. I don’t think you’re capable of letting one person take priority over another. You aren’t capable of showing true, unfettered love. I can’t do this anymore. Goodbye Ellis.”

With your last sentence cut off by a choked sob, you run out of the restaurant.

Alone at last you let the tears fall. The tears of what had happened, the tears of what could have been, the tears that you had been right all along. You should never have dated him. You should never have allowed yourself to open up to him, to show him your truest, honest love. He would never be able to reciprocate such unrequited feelings, and it was time to accept that and move on. You would never be enough.

[omkookie]

♡ Suitors ♡ · Liam, Elbert, Jude 🩷

⌈ ⚠️ 𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐓 𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒 ⌉ Smut, But more angst than horny. 🚶

Liam

He feels guilty now that he's fallen in love with you, and you don't reciprocate his feelings. He knows he shouldn't have bedded that fangirl who approached him.

He ruined your relationship.

His heart clenches painfully, and he feels a burning ache spread across his chest. How could he make you sad? Knowing that you hate him makes him uneasy, and he feels dejected as he ponders over the issue. Maybe, it's not too late for him to make things up to you? You were still willing to see him for dates sometimes, Even if they weren’t the same as before.

Maybe, he could make things up to you using his body.

That's how this whole ordeal takes place. He takes you at night, and he makes sure to satisfy you as well as he can until morning. He pushes your thighs apart and buries his head between them to lick and suck on your sensitive spot until your legs tremble.

You’ll surely forgive him if he takes care of you like this, right? He loves you. He wants you to love him back, he wants to make you happy. For the first time in forever, he wants something. He’s selfish, and he feels guilty about it. Even if you’re still acting cold towards him every morning before you leave, the little cracks in your poker face every time you bid him farewell ignite the smallest glimmer of hope in him.

Maybe one day, You’ll love him again.

This poor curious cat will soon be killed by his own actions, and the insane lengths he will go to. Will you stop him? Or will you cut him off and drive him into further madness? As Liam plans his next date with you, he can’t wait to show you just how much he can do with his cock.

Elbert

The water he finds himself in is so deep. How does he breathe? The sadness he feels spreads like poison throughout his body, and it’s like he’s drowning. He can have you, and yet it was only for tonight. Because he knows that he can’t keep you.

He makes the best out of it, wanting to feel your lips on his and your soft skin overlapping with his. He wants to feel all of you, your soft body pressed against him, how soft your hair feels when he runs his fingers through it… The taste of your lips.

You’re so beautiful, he loves pushing his cock inside you and watching as you take it. Even if you frown at him, you still looked pretty. Sure, there may currently be some bad blood between the two of you. But, even so, you were still very beautiful.

It’s almost scary, isn’t it?

He’s only bedding you to make sure that you indeed are what he wants. Just how far will he go to find what he’s looking for? Are you what he’s looking for? Will he throw you to the side and leave you, just to seek the most beautiful thing in someone else?

Elbert kisses your lips, and you notice how his empty blue eyes continue to stare at you intently. You’re an object in those beautiful, empty eyes.

When you get ready to leave the next morning, he looks at you curiously and wonders if you were what he was searching for. Could it really be you? He doesn’t know. He feels like he might go insane as he wonders.

Oh, How cruel fate is. His unfortunate soul will never find rest for as long as he lives, and he will always continue searching for the most beautiful thing in the world.

But, you leave, He realizes that he wants you. He wants you. Even if it means destroying all of the other things in his possession which he thought were most beautiful.

He needs to make you his…

Jude

Fuck you. You and your sweet little smiles, the ones that turn into deep frowns whenever you see him. Even if you despised him with your whole being, you sure as hell still loved being filled with his cock.

Jude curses under his breath when he feels how hard your pussy spasms around him when you orgasm, and he can't stop his words from slipping out. "Pervert. You're a dirty, Dirty, little slut. You say you hate me.. Yet, here you are. Having an orgasm on my cock" He rasps out as his hands grip your waist.

His Perverted and dirty little slut.

Only His… He hopes. Just thinking about the possibility of you being with anyone else is enough to set him off. He hates how irritated he gets because of you. You were nothing but a mere fling of his, a plain goody two-shoes woman who he happened to take an interest in one night.

How is it possible that he’s gotten this desperate for you? To seek you out whenever he can. He wants to fuck you hard enough engrave himself in your body, That way you can’t forget him.

Even if you thought Jude had no real interest in you besides your body, you were wrong. He’s far, far more interested. He wants more than just your body for a night, he wants you to be his. You’re his precious little slut, and he loves you enough to fill you with his cock, Even if you’ve started pretending that you hate him recently.

You can’t truly hate him.

Can you?

[kibby-reaper]

al introduces elbie to ao3 to indulge in his delusional fantasies

- mod kibby

[bontu-the-l0ver]

The angel of crown.

Kinda sad, it covers delicate topics. But I promise I will make it a happy story at the end tehee.

Part 1:

Part 2:

Roger, Liam and Ellis were walking on the corridor looking for Victor.

- You don't need to look for Victor.

The tree of them turned to see William.

- You know right? - William asked.

- What do you mean? - Liam asked.

William took a deep breath.

- We just got another letter from the Queen explaining the little girl's case further.

- Why did the Queen sent two different letters? - Ellis asked.

- Because her case has to do with our next mission. - William answered. - Roger go finish checking her, after the rest return from their missions we will explain this further.

William turned and walked away. Roger went to the Kitchen to see the little girl finishing eating with her characteristic messy way.

- Hey little girl. - Roger took her in her arms. - Are you full?

- Yes! It was delicious!

- Nice. We'll now we need to get you checked

They went to the basement to treat her, the little girl got naked and the view was sad, she had the most terrible bruises, Roger checked for any broke bones and hopeful there wasn't any. But the worst was that such a young girl was rsped.

Roger noted everything down with a bitter taste in his tongue, Liam dressed the girl back again and Ellis brought a toy.

- Guys... - Roger spoke.- Let's not tell the other about what we found on and in her body.

- Isn't William and Victor going to explain it anyways? - Ellis asked.

- I don't think so... I doubt the rest of them want to hear the whole story, neither I... - Roger answered. - Oh... Let's not tell the little lady about this.

Once the rest came from their mission, Victor stood in front of them.

- The little lady is not with us right? - William asked.

- She is playing with a small doll I gave her. - Ellis answered. - She is in another room I doubt she will hear us.

William nodded.

Well, back to your next mission, Do you know the Pelly agency? - Victor asked.

The one who just broke down? - Harry asked.

- That one. - William answered. - Well, that little agency was in charge of and orphanage and some other buisnes wich their main public were kids.

William pulled some papers from a drawer, he just showed them and they could see it was some kind of list of payments and the he spoke.

- That agency has been trafficking, corrupting, prostituting and forced labor in those kids they were in charge of.

- But how do we have so much evidence? - Liam asked.

- I hear' those bastards were discovered by the police but they bribed 'em. - Jude answered.

- Exactly, but we still got the evidence however with evidence or not we will kill them since they are already trying to create another agency to keep their shady business but most of them changed their identity

Victor indicated to a family portrait. - These innocent family you see here is the one behind all these nasty things.

As they were speaking the little girl that had finished playing with the doll saw them all and wanted to play with them so she entered the room and they looked at her.

- Little one, you shouldn't be here, we are talking about grown-up stuff. - Alfons said.

The girl looked at the painting and got closer, she pointed to the main couple in there.

- Mama and papa!

[typewriting-robin]

The Way I See You

Victor/Robin MC (M x F)

cw: angst, nightmares, ptsd, negative self-esteem, age gap relationship (MC is 24, Victor is...god knows how old), daddy issues, nsfw (rated e), vaginal fingering, vaginal sex

Word count: 5476

note~ it is recommended but not required to read the OC/MC master list and scroll to the very bottom for Adaline, the Robin that corresponds to Victor.

Deep down inside, Adaline knew that her relationship with the leader of Crown was odd. He would catch her in one of her daydreaming spells. It would usually start with an attention grabber. A tap on the shoulder, or a rose would manifest in her lap.

“How about a magic trick to turn that frown upside down!”

Victor’s magic tricks varied. Sometimes they were card tricks. Other times he would pull impossible things from a hat. On one or two occasions he used a tablecloth and summoned a very angry Jude, who threatened to leave him bloody. 

Each time, the memories would evaporate, the way the sun would evaporate the ice surrounding a flower, breathing life and nurturing it.

Their relationship began to change rather quickly. One night she had a nightmare. It was her most recurring one. The fire that broke out at her childhood home when she was 11.

After waking up, she walked around the corridors of Crown manor in an effort to calm herself. That she was in no danger.

“Little Robin,” Victor’s voice cut through the darkness as he too wandered the halls.

“I know, I should be asleep,” she said before he could scold her.

A smile played on Victor’s lips. “I usually would say that but my Robin isn’t quite an ordinary lady. If she happens to be up, then the reason must be important.” There was a pause. “Did your typewriter get swallowed up by an alligator?”

Adaline laughed at his words and the sheet improbability of it, momentarily forgetting her nightmare. “No, of course not!”

“I’m sure you can tell me all about it while I have my boys deal with our pesky alligator. Come follow me,” he said, continuing the joke and beckoning her.

Adaline breathed in before following him. He pulled her into a room that was only just smaller than the ballroom. “Where are we?”

“Home in a home! My room, of course! Now my guest…do you desire for water, milk, tea, perhaps. Chamomile works wonders for sleep!”

“Chamomile will do.”

Minutes passed before he served her a cup of warm chamomile. “Thank you. I used to drink a lot of this when I was young. I was always a little anxious growing up, you could say.” With her finger, she twirled a lock of her honeyed blonde hair. She had inherited the color from her mother. In fact, she strongly resembled her mother rather than her father, who was tall and almost always draped in black. Ellis reminded her of him in terms of his style, but there was something about Victor that truly reminded her of him.

His chamomile tasted like the one her father made, with a dollop of honey for extra flavor.

Victor likely knew she was having nightmares but he didn’t question her nor probe her, only offering her his company and attention. And then one minute she was awake, the next, it was broad daylight and she had woken up in Victor’s bed alone, without a single nightmare.

That’s how it began.

It started off once every few days but lately her sojourns to Victor’s room were becoming more frequent. He was always so kind with her, so patient and never probing. The members of Crown didn’t seem to mind seeing her with her veil off, least of all Victor, who helped her meet Roger, who treated her burn scars with various salves and took notes on her progress.

“You have such lovely hair,” Victor said one night. The nightmares were now gone since she started sleeping with Victor. “Beautiful, beautiful hair. I can tell you take perfect care of it.”

“Thank you. It means a lot to me knowing you have such radiant hair as well.”

Victor motioned her to sit down on a chair facing a mirror where he ran a hairbrush along her long, honey colored hair while humming softly. He moved the brush slowly as if fearing he’d pluck out one of her strands of hair even if by accident, which made her heart flush with warm feelings.

The fire had singed all of her hair, marking her as unrecognizable alongside her burn marks. She had been mistaken for a servant child and sent to an orphanage. Her hair didn’t grow, not immediately as she recovered, passing off as a boy. But when she was just shy of turning thirteen, a miracle happened: her locks had begun to take root.

Adaline would refuse to cut her hair if she could help it, as her hair served many purposes. It was, to her,  her one remaining beauty, inherited from her mother. It also hid her for when she didn’t wear the veil, falling down her waist. She didn’t trust her hair with just anyone, but Victor was so unfailingly kind to her.

She saw his violet eyes focusing on her hair, now applying some kind of lotion on it. “What is that?

“This? A lotion made to make your hair glow. The queen uses it every night before bed.”

“Really?” Her eyes widened in surprise.

Victor smiled. “Indeed. And don’t worry, there’s plenty to go around.” He rubbed the lotion all over her hair, which had a rich fragrance that she couldn’t pin down.

“Does my hair have split ends?” she asked. “I don’t get it cut very often. Sometimes when I say to just trim it, the salon instead makes a mess of it.”

“A little, yes. One of the maids here is an expert at trimming hair. Allow me to help you tomorrow with that and you’ll feel as good as new!” Victor drummed on her shoulders, indicating he was done. “Ready for bed?”

“Yes.” 

Victor’s bed was twice the size of the one in her room, giving them their own space to lay. He tucked her in. “Do you want to read a story? Or perhaps I’ll tell you one?”

Adaline yawned. “No, thank you. I’m sleepy tonight.”

“Very well. Pleasant dreams, my Little Robin.”

Adaline quickly drifted off to sleep, her world sinking into the comfortable inky black shades of sleep amidst acceptance and warmth. 

…Except, when Adaline woke up, the moon still shone brightly outside, indicating she had risen far too early. Victor was asleep next to her, appearing peaceful and years younger than the likely age he was, which dispelled the notions she had grown to have about him as her father figure. Adaline stared at his features, admiring his beauty.

She slipped out of bed to use the privy. Predictably, Victor had the best one in Crown Castle, with plumbing she wasn’t even used to before cleaning up and returning to bed.

Victor had turned in the interim, facing her side, but still asleep.

She could see his beauty mark as he slept, his lips upturned. It was on his left side of his face, on the very border of his lips. Adaline recalled how her father and stepmother would kiss her goodnight. Without thinking, she leaned over and kissed his beauty mark, her lips grazing over it.

Instantly, regret pulled at her, gnawing at her insides as heat rose in her lower back. What have I done?

Victor didn’t react, as none the wiser.

Her heart raced as she tucked herself into bed, praying to every known deity that Victor didn’t stir or that he had even felt that kiss. Why did I do that? He’s a man, not your father.

Yet he was so kind to her, so funny and gracious and patient with her.

She had a fitful sleep that night, unable to get over the regret she faced as new regrets kept swarming in. Did that count as a kiss?

She left the room and got ready for her observations the next morning before Victor could even wake. There was no way she could ever meet his gaze today.

She sat in the lounge, taking notes with her pen.

“You’re sighing,” a slinky voice said, coming from the depths.

Adaline didn’t even notice she was sighing. “Good morning, Alfons,” she said, ignoring him. She had attracted his interest upon moving to Castle Crown on account of her being difficult for him to enchant.

But Alfons plopped up next to her, sitting too uncomfortably close. “You don’t appear to have writer’s block. Is it matters of the mind? Or perhaps that of the heart? Hmm?”

“Be quiet,” she said, wanting to shoo him off. Since she covered her neck in its entirety. Alfons could only be seen as a nuisance to her. “I’m trying to think.”

“Might I help you? I enjoy thinking as well.” He grabbed a lock of her hair, fingers deftly running down. However, she quickly swatted him.

“Stop that!”

“It’s shinier than usual today. And softer. Reminds me of our leader’s hair.”

“Go touch his hair then.”

“Ah, but Victor isn’t a lady like yourself. A lady’s hair is much--”

Adaline grabbed her pen and moved to face Alfons, as if ready to stab him. “Not a word more or else I will draw on your face.” She hated being teased. Roger was enough already but she benefitted from him so she was able to grin and bear it. Alfons, on the other hand, had nothing of value to her.

Then she paused in realization now that she was close to him.

Being this close to him reminded her of last night, when she kissed Victor.

“You’re doing it again. Is that a sigh I’m about to hear once more?”

Adaline sighed-- in exasperation. “Fine. I’ll ask you since you’ve kissed people.”

“Kissing? Is my Robin--”

She rolled her eyes. “Nevermind. I can’t ask someone like you anything. It’ll be better if I ask Roger.”

Instantly, Alfons relented. “I’ll stop.”

“What is a kiss?” she asked. “Don’t laugh at me. Are kisses--specifically the ones on the lips-- supposed to be romantic or sexual? Like a stimulant?” Then she realized that Alfons was the perfect person to ask this. She gripped her pen, the edge of it near her lips. “Actually, say you use your…ability on someone, yes?”

“Yes? Keep going.”

“And you kiss someone, does that count as a kiss?”

“Of course it does. They believe me to be whatever they desire.”

“I see. And what if they’re in a state where they’re prone or asleep or perhaps don’t react. Does that count, even if the one being kissed is unaware?”

Alfons rubbed his chin with his gloved hand. “If a tree falls down and no one hears it, does it make a sound?” he asked her.

“It does since it fell, didn’t it? It doesn’t negate the fact that the tree fell in the first place.”

“But no one heard it,” he said, a smile playing on his lips. “Therefore it did not happen. Not truly. That is why my ability does not count,” he paused for a beat, “to some, anyway. Are you going to write that in your little fairy tale book of secrets?”

“Maybe,” she said. “Now go away,” she said, properly shooing him off with her pen.

Thankfully, Victor wasn’t present for most of the day, so she was able to get her work done and meet with Roger for treatment and to help him with his research on her scars and the pain that would flare in her right shoulder.

When the time came to go to bed, Adaline opted to sleep in her room.

Her world turned black, then morphed into red. Not the familiar red of the fire that consumed her and snuffed out everything dear to her. She was back to that night when she met Crown, the man standing in his pool of blood. She remembered Victor was not there.

“Take the knife and slit your own throat,” William’s voice commanded and Adaline’s arm rose, knife in hand. She was powerless, out of control. Just like the man she found laying in a pool of his own blood that night.

“Please…no…don’t make me do this!” She was shaking but her arm was no longer hers in her final moments. All she could think of was how she’d never see Victor again. He’s never show her his magic tricks, his jokes, nor comfort her when she--

“Now!”

She rose from bed, touching her neck. The scars were still there but she was here. Alive. And healthier than before. “I can’t go to Victor. I’m too dependent on him,” she murmured. She thought of the kiss, the stupid kiss she initiated. He was her father figure and those were her feelings towards him.

Victor never came that night but he was at breakfast and had instantly called for her attention when she arrived in the room. “Little Robin! Over here! Yoo hoo!” Yes, he was a little embarrassing but it was endearing and a smile slipped out of her lips.

I can do this. “Good morning, Victor.”

“How did my Robin sleep?”

“Okay, I guess,” she said, lying.

Harrison, who was nearby, let out a hmph noise. 

“I have a mission for my Little Robin today. You shall accompany me to a ball tonight!” He let out a boisterous chuckle. “And you shall be my lovely, lovely date.”

“Huh?” She hadn’t been to a dance since she was a child but-- “date?”

“Of course! I asked for you, yes.”

“He wants to present ya to Queenie,” Jude said over his paper. “G’luck. You’ll need it with this clown.”

With a flick of Victor’s hand upwards, Jude’s newspaper tore into fourths, then eighths, then sixteenths.

 “I was reading that ya annoyin’ git!”

But Victor did not care one bit, running out the room and giggling. “Meet me in the courtyard!”

After she ate, Victor was indeed inside the gazebo. “Why did you want me here?” she asked. 

“Simple! Because we’re going to practice dancing together.”

“Wouldn’t it be better to do it in the ballroom?”

“Indeed, my precious and sound minded Robin, but we are going to an outdoors event, with fireworks!” He made motions with his hands and sound effects simulating fireworks, which made her laugh. After her laughter died down, he bowed to her, which made her heart race. “May I have this dance?”

Adaline was trained to dance a long time ago, before the fire. She was trained to dance at the same time she learned to walk. She had even taught her stepmother the basics. Doing this with Victor was like returning to a warm, cozy room with a blanket, coming to her like second nature. He was strong, his movements confident. Even when he danced, Victor’s personality seeped forth.

“You’re a natural. I don’t even have to recite the steps,” he said.

He never said anything bad or remotely negative to her, even when she made a mistake. “I enjoy moving with my body.” Regaining control of her body was a long and arduous process but now she was committed to keeping it that way. She danced back in her apartment sometimes. Running was primarily her way to keep her body in her control. She was swift, lithe. The picture of a Robin.

“Very graceful.”

“So are you.”

“I love a good dance, even with only the music of the outside playing.”

“Me too,” she said, meeting his face.

That was her mistake. She saw his beauty mark, the same one she kissed, and fumbled, losing her rhythm and stepping on his toe. “Ahh sorry! I lost control! It won’t happen again!”

But Victor was unphased. “It’s quite alright! We must keep practicing!”

***

It had turned out that the reason why Victor was out for most of yesterday was in preparation for the ball.He had gotten everything ready for them, including her dress, accessories, and makeup. Her dress was pink, which added an innocence to her look and Maria, her maid, had her hair in an elegant half updo. 

Victor’s words rung in her head. “I’d like to offer you a choice to make for tonight,” he said after he concluded dance practice. “I prepared makeup for you tonight, but you needn’t wear it, my dear Robin. The choice you make is up to you.”

Maria gestured to the makeup box. Everything was in here. Lipstick, rouge, powder, shadow, and makeup for her brows and lashes. But most critically, there was a liquid there that matched the color of her skin. This is what Victor meant.

She stared at the liquid for a spell, pondering if she ought to wear it. It would conceal every last one of her pink and white burn marks, mostly the ones on her face and neck. For just one night, she could live normally But…

“Use everything but this one, please.” If the partygoers couldn’t take her face, her injuries, then at least she had Victor on her side.

***

Victor gasped when he saw her. “You look positively radiant, my Little Robin! A perfect vision!” 

Adaline’s heart was already racing in adrenaline when Maria finished her makeup job. She knew Victor was waiting for her as she walked down the stairs. When he said those words, she felt like running as a reflex.

Her cheeks were completely red. “T-thank you.”

“I see you chose everything but the foundation. A wonderful choice you made!” He leaned and took her gloved hand, kissing her palm. A subtle heat bloomed from the core of her belly upwards, spreading, spreading until she felt entirely flushed.

He was her father figure, right? So why was she feeling this way? Like she wanted to both run away from and collide with him.

When they were in the carriage, she spoke up. “It’s because of you,” she began as she stared at the window, watching London’s scenery. She turned to face him. He was already gazing at her.

“What was?”

“I didn’t wear the…paint because I knew.” She met his jewel-like eyes. “I knew you’d be there with me every step of the way. You’re always on my side. Since we met.”

His hand moved over hers, causing her heart to race. “And I’ll always be.” 

His hand covered hers for the rest of the carriage ride.

The band played a lively tune when they arrived at the ball. It was an outdoors affair, with rose gardens and marble statues.

Victor wordlessly offered her his hand after he made his greetings and presented them to the Queen, a larger than life woman wearing all black. They danced slowly in time to the music, two bodies dancing as one.

“All eyes are on you,” he said.

Adaline wanted to dismiss it as something someone with a silver tongue would say. “You jest.”

“Look beyond you.”

She felt her cheeks redden, feeling glad yet again that she opted to wear rouge. “I think…” She looked beyond them at the onlookers. She recognized William and Elbert there, and not too beyond Elbert was Alfons, looking at them with a sly expression. It took every fiber of her being not to stick her tongue at him. But all were looking at them. “I think you’re right. Let’s keep dancing.”

It was just as they danced earlier in the courtyard, only in fancier dress. There was no one but her and Victor. She was used to his touch, his gaze, his warmth. They were all things precious to her. Things she thought she had lost, but now found.

Their palms touched and they swayed. Then they heard an “ahem”.

“William! My eldest and co-conspirator. How are you tonight?” Victor’s tone was not unlike a child being caught with his hand in the cookie jar.

William’s arms were crossed, his gaze playful. “How long will you continue to hold our Robin hostage?” his ruby red eyes gazed from Victor, then hers.

“I am not held hostage!” she said, interrupting their conversation, but William ignored her.

“You’ve kept her caged to yourself all day and all night. Allow one of us to have her.”

Victor pouted, but acquiesced. “You may have her. For now. Do take care that our adorable hedonist does not lay an arm on her.”

William was also an adept dancer. “I understand why Victor won’t let you go. You’re an accomplished dancer. Few can keep up with him.”

“I have a lot of deficiencies but as a Robin, I have the best speed and stamina.”

“Nonsense,” William said. “You have a surplus of admirable traits. Otherwise our leader wouldn’t be at your side the way he is. If you left Crown, he would be heartbroken.”

Adaline didn’t say anything, not immediately. “I…” William knew Victor best and he was confirming that Victor cared just as much about her as he did. “They need me at the post office but…”

“No one loves his magic tricks more than you do.” He glanced at Victor, who was standing near some of the Queen’s family, pulling a turtle out of a chalice, which elicited horrified stares.

“Oh dear. Should we do damage control?” she asked.

“Victor must reap his consequences. This is the norm.”

She laughed. 

“You love him,” he said.

His words echoed in their mouth and Adaline was momentarily lost for words. “As a daughter would a father,” she said too quickly.

William smirked. “Is that what you believe?” His eyes narrowed.

“Y-yes,” she said, showing hesitation. She recalled the way she felt when she kissed the corner of his lips. How her heart, her body, her mind were consumed by it during and ever since then.

William let her go. “Then go to him and do what your heart tells you to do.You are in control of yourself, Robin.”

Victor was waiting for her, having given the turtle to a noble’s child, who at least found amusement in his antics. “My Little Robin. Did my eldest fill your head with his pretty little words?” His palm touched her. Despite them being gloved, she felt as if they were bare.

“He tried, but I can resist him.” Her words weren’t necessarily true, and she wondered if Victor could also detect her lie.

“A valiant effort!”

They danced until the fireworks commenced, which signaled the end of the event. Their hands found each other as they sky lit up in various shades of gunpowder. “Should we go with the other Crown members?” she asked him as the crowd began to disperse.

Victor shook his head. “I’m afraid it’s too much of a risk to travel this late and with this many nobles afoot.” Adaline’s stomach dropped from his words. “But you shall be safe with me!”

“Do they want to kill us?” she asked as they departed to the carriage. 

Victor took out a pocket watch and began to time the carriage. “My darling Robin, everyone does. Now if this carriage goes over seven minutes, we must make our disappearing act.”

Luckily the carriage stopped just after six minutes. “Did we arrive?”

He looked out the window. “We did, and not a moment to spare! Now, shall we?”

They were not at Castle Crown, but at a hotel.

“I had the servants help with our booking. Will you be alright with this arrangement?”

She nodded. “I understand the travel risk so yes.”

Naturally, this was one of the most well regarded hotels in all of London, and for England, for that matter. It was opulent, with it having a royal theme. Adaline found a mirror, where she saw her makeup had begun to run and her hair had loosened.

“Are you feeling alright?” She saw Victor’s expression through the mirror. His eyebrows were knitted in concern. William’s words echoed through her ears. If you left Crown, he would be heartbroken.

She turned to him. “Yes. I’m fine. Just a lot of things on my mind.”

He sat on the bed, patting the side for her to sit next to him, which she did without a second thought. “Won’t you tell your dearest Victor what’s on your mind?”

Adaline hesitated. “Just tired,” she lied.

Victor’s hand moved to her chin, tilting it in his direction. His eyes were so gentle, yet carried a weight to them. Much like she did. “My Little Robin…you know it’s not good to lie.” So he did detect when she had lied to him.

Adaline decided to come clean. “William said if I left Crown, you’d be heartbroken.”

The words hung in the air, sucking all the energy out. “Well…he’s….” Victor began, faltering. “He’s right. I wouldn’t make heads or tails without my swift Robin. She’s become important to me. More than she’ll ever know.”

His beautiful jewel-like eyes softened. William said she loved him but her own heart had to tell her. She closed her eyes, listening to her heart. All she could hear was it drumming in her chest as the memory of kissing his lips flooded to her again. She had lost count of how many times she replayed the memory.

When she opened her eyes, she saw Victor’s soft gaze on her. So she moved forward and raised her body, her lips once again grazing his beauty mark.

Victor didn’t react, which brought Alfons’ words back to light. If a tree falls down and no one hears it, does it make a sound?”

But her lips very much did that and he was awake this time.

“Sorry, I won’t do it--”

“My Robin!” he said, moving forward, his lips meeting hers again. He was soft, caring, and warm. All traits she had thought of him since the start. His kisses taste like champagne, like a celebration. He broke the kiss, adding small pecks. “Do not apologize,” he said between kisses. “Ever. Kiss me anytime. Anywhere.”

Her arms encircled around his neck, deepening the kiss.

“Just as you did the other night,” he said, to which she stopped the kiss.

“Huh?” She pulled away from him, but he kept his grip tight on her.

“It left me in a state of shock when you did that! Whatever impulse did you go through to kiss me like that in my sleep?”

“Wait. You felt that?” she was mortified. Now, she wanted nothing more than to crawl into a hole and stay there. 

“Of course I did! To know my Robin loves me back…is that why you didn’t come the next day?”

“No! I mean…yes. I won’t ever--”

Victor interrupted her again. “Always kiss me. You have my heart, Robin.”

With that, she leaned in and kissed him again. Victor’s kisses were bountiful, each feeling like the sparks she saw in the sky that night, like magic. Pop. Pop. Pop.

He laid her down on the bed, her hands moving to run her fingers through his silky black hair. He was everything to her and so much more.

“My Robin,” he said.

“Call me by my name.”

“Adaline,” he said and he was rewarded with more kisses. 

She broke for air, but kept her grip on him. “My family would call me Della.”

“Della,” he said, his voice soft. Kiss. “A beautiful name.” He moved to kiss the scars on her neck. “Della…” Goosebumps littered her entire body. No one called her Della since the fire. Not until tonight. “Della, my Della.”

His words were like the wind to her, compelling her to take him. “Victor.” She deepened their kisses, sliding his coat down. She knew this was the man she wanted to spend her life with. Their relationship may have been odd, but this was what her heart wanted more than anything else in the world.

“Della,” he slid the dress off, leaving her in her corset. “I’m afraid I have to make you undergo another choice tonight. I’m sorry I keep doing this to you, my dear, but it is life altering.”

“I want to,” she said without hesitation. “It has to be you. Tonight. On the day when I’ve felt like…no. I’ve become Della again.” She unbuttoned his black undershirt, exposing him.

Victor nodded. “My Robin…er, Della--habit--a wise, confident decision on your part.” He pushed the strings of her corset, laying it beside them as he worked to free her from her chemise.

Adaline suddenly felt nervous, as if the reality of the situation was finally hitting her. 

Sensing this, Victor spoke up. “We can stop. No one will fault you for this.”

“I want to. I want you.”

“Then…” he kissed her scarred cheeks. “Allow me to teach you everything you need to know.” He placed her between the pillows after exposing her, his lips leaving no place unkissed. Every scar, everything white and pink and red and in between was blessed by Victor's lips. She thought of earlier as to why she didn't wear the foundation. She didn't need it. Not when Victor would always love her. 

“Let me see you too, Victor,” she said after he fully undressed her. 

He did as told and revealed himself to her. His hair appeared even more luxurious in this bare state. 

“You're gorgeous,” she whispered. 

Victor kissed her earlobe. “Would you like to learn a magic trick?” He asked, his voice lower than before.

“Please. I adore your magic tricks.”

Victor's hands tickled her abdomen before lowering, lowering between her legs. One finger slid inside her, her walls contracting. “It appears you're more than ready for my trick.” She kissed him deeply as he moved his finger inside her, circling around her nub inside her. But what surprised her was a second one being inserted at a different angle. 

“Victor!” She moaned. 

“Let me teach you, Della,” he whispered, kissing her forehead. He moved his fingers at two different angles. “Move your hips for me. Up and down. Set a nice rhythm. Like we're dancing again.” She did as she was told. “A perfect dancer. So pretty.” He said amidst her growing moans. “Keep going, my darling Della.” She moved in tandem with his fingers, her noises growing louder and louder.

“Sing for me, my Little Robin!” His fingers were now edging her decisively as she felt her entire body lighting up like the fireworks again but this time it wasn't a pop but rather something greater than that. She trembled, her body ringing out for him, moans echoing throughout the bedroom. 

He slowly withdrew his fingers from inside her. “You were so wonderful,” he said. “Would you like to stop here?”

She shook her head. “I want you to teach me everything, Victor. I'm certain.” 

He leaned in to kiss her, which she responded by wrapping her arms around his neck. His now dried fingers were weaving through her hair as their bodies aligned. 

She breathed in and Victor cupped her cheek. “I've always desired you,” he said. “And when you were in my bed…” he slowly began to push inside her.

“Yes…” she said as she felt his intrusion. A sweet pressure as he entered her. She had been stretched out thanks to his fingers and she had never felt so complete, so full the way she did now with Victor. 

“I wanted this too. Now let's do one last dance for the night, shall we?”

Their hands found each other’s now stripped free from gloves as he made love to her, each and every one of their fingers intertwined so intimately, like the strings of a piano key, striking a nerve inside her as they moved as one. 

“My dance partner,” she whispered between their kisses and thrusts.

Their movements became more frenzied but their hands never unlocked as they kept going. “I'm afraid I'm about to…”

“Let go,” she said, her hands gripping tighter as she moved even more swiftly underneath him. She was the fastest of the Robins, after all. 

Victor's climax came and he spilled himself inside her, slowing down. Adaline gripped her hands tight, hoping to come again but she couldn't achieve it the way it had happened with his fingers. Victor pulled out of her swiftly and began working his fingers inside her again, this time pumping in and out of her, his fingertips grazing the sweet spot that made her react in increasingly louder moans and whimpers. “I want to make my Robin sing all night. It’s one of the most wonderful sounds I’ve ever heard.”

It only took a few moments for her body to respond the way he did, her body shaking as she cried out his name.

His arms went around her, spooning her from behind. “You're precious to me, Della. Thank you for choosing me. For wanting me back.”

Adaline smiled as she closed her eyes.

“And it seems my Della requires less teaching than I thought. She'll be an expert by the end of the week.”

She turned around to face him, kissing his beauty mark again, her leg wrapping around his. He gave her his widest, most sincere grin. “End of the week? How about the end of the night?”

[revasserium]

狐と蛍の物語 (the story of the fox and the firefly)

harrison; 4,064 words; fluff and angst a/n: for @violettduchess and @aquagirl1978's summer days, sultry nights event -- prompt "fireflies" (obviously); i'm also gonna say this counts for my 31 days of au prompt -- reincarnation!au; inspired by hotarubi no mori e and catheryn m valente's deathless and honestly, i'm so proud and happy with this one that i'd encourage you to read it even if you have no idea of the fandom/character. u__u i would love, love, love to know what you guys think!

once upon a time, a long, long time ago, there lived a girl who only danced to the firefly’s light and a fox who could tell nothing but lies.

01.

for as long as you can remember, there’s always been the wood. and it has always been behind your house, it’s leaves and branches foreboding in the winter wind, and somehow less so in the simmer of mid-summer afternoons, when the sunlight dappled light across the soft, forest floor. it isn’t a very large wood, but it’s a wood nevertheless, and deserves all the respect and fear afforded to bigger woods in faraway places. woods that warn of teeth and terrors, woods that hide both dreams and monsters.

you’d been wandering the wood from when you were a little girl, and to you, there’s not a single rock you don’t know, a single tree you haven’t tried to climb. and the forest knows you, as forests do the people who frequent them, and it welcomes you with open arms, it cradles you to its chest, whispers stories into your ears, carves itself open to show you it’s secrets —

“you’re late.”

you crinkle your nose at the familiar voice, letting out a huffing breath as you drop your picnic basket in the middle of the small, sun-lit clearing, taking your time with laying out the checked picnic blanket and two cups and saucers for tea, and finally, pulling out a tray of confections, covered by a thin, linen baking towel.

“no, i’m not! you just want me to think i am so i’ll give you more than half of the sweets.”

a boy settles over the picnic blanket, cocking his head at you before you narrow your eyes.

“well? isn’t that true?”

“ahh… i wonder if it is…” he says, but you can hear the grin in his voice, even through the material of his fox-faced mask, which, after a few more seconds of posturing, he pushes up onto his forehead. he shakes out his milk-tea hair and slates you a poison-ivy grin. you know that grin like you know the woods— and you know the woods like you know the backs of your own hands. better, even, you think sometimes.

because for as long as there’s been the woods, and as long as you have wandered it’s depths, the boy with the fox-faced mask has always been there.

“there were fresh strawberries at farmer’s market today,” you say, setting up the tea service as you nudge the opened picnic basket towards the boy with a foot. he peers in with wide, curious eyes before letting out a soft noise of contentment as he reaches in to pull out a slice of freshly baked strawberry cream cake.

“your grandmama makes the best pastries in the world,” he says, and there’s such sincerity in his voice that for a moment, you almost believe him.

but you nod and take the compliment in stride, “she sure does!”

he digs in with gusto even when you tut that the tea hasn’t steeped properly, but you laugh as he smears a large dollop of whipped cream across his cheeks. you point it out to him with a dainty finger, and as always, you fight the urge to reach over and wipe it off for him. instead, you hold yourself still and sigh as he finally gets to it, smudging a bit into his hair in the process.

“clumsy fox,” you giggle, pressing a hand up to your lips.

“picky girl,” he snipes back, but there’s that full, sated grin on his own lips as he leans back, his elbows propped up on the soft grasses of the clearing.

after a moment of pleasant silence during which the leaves sang on their trees and the grasses swayed beneath the breeze, the boy turns towards you.

“so. no dancing today?”

you turn your head towards him before casting your eyes up towards the still bright blue sky.

“you know it’s not time yet.”

the boy heaves a melodramatic sigh, sound much bigger and larger than his 14-year old body should be able to hold.

“ah… right, right — because you can —”

“— only dance by the fireflies’ light — yep!”

the boy regards you with an imperious sort of look before breaking into a fit of bright, open laughter.

“you’re the strangest girl i’ve ever met!”

“just you saying that tells me it’s not true,” you stick out your tongue at him, even as heat washes up into your cheeks.

the boy shrugs, lying back down on the picnic basket, “i don’t always have to lie, y’know.”

and it’s your turn to regard him with the imperious look, and, a the cock of a singular eyebrow, his lips tug into a lopsided grin. his eyes flash, the color of budding spring.

“liar,” you say, but you’re smiling too as you lie back down to watch the clouds pass.

he makes no sound to correct you.

02.

once, you’d asked him what his name is and he simply shook his head and said —

“call me whatever you’d like.”

“but i want to call you by your name.”

“what’s in a name anyway?”

“uhm… nothing’s in it but…” you’d frowned then, your eight year old mind spinning to try and catch up with this strange, strange question and this strange, strange boy.

“see? so why should it matter what my name is? just… call me whatever!”

but you’d only frowned hard enough for him to roll his eyes.

“fine then — uhm — what’s the name of the current prince?”

you’d blinked, “harry.”

“then call me that.”

“but is that your name?”

“well, now it is.”

you hadn’t been convinced but you liked it better than not calling him anything at all.

“harry, then,” you’d said, smiling. and the boy — harry — had smiled too, slipping his fox-faced mask back in place as he led you further into the forest.

03.

“y’know…” harry says, his voice light as the sun dips beneath the horizon line, leaving behind a blaze of reds and pinks. you turn your head, eyes catching on the shape of him, inked out against the dying light.

“you’re the only person i’ve ever met who’s wanted to be cursed.”

you take a long breath and turn your eyes back up to the bleeding sky.

“well. you’re cursed, and you seem just fine to me,” you try to keep your voice strong, resolute and steady. grandmama had always said that if you keep your voice strong, people are more willing to believe your words. you wonder if that’s why harry’s voice is always soft, always lilting, his words slippery as moss-covered stone.

“yeah, but you can’t even touch me,” he says, and for once, his voice is harsh, his words sharp and hard as broken glass.

“that’s okay though — once i get my own curse, i’ll be able to touch you, right?”

harry fights back the urge to turn, to take you by the shoulders and shake you till you push him away. he wants to scream, to howl at the moon like the mother wolves and the hungry cubs that live in the heart of the wood. he wants to run through the woods, crash into things, climb up the trees and shake off all their branching leaves.

but he can’t, and so he doesn’t.

instead, he turns to look at you and look at you and look at you.

he wonders if it’s a strange thing, to like looking at someone so much, to find something new about a face every single time it’s looked upon — the wisps of hair fallen loose to frame your face from the velvet ribbons holding it back, the curve of your button nose, the dip of your cupid’s bow. he wonders if this is a normal thing, the thick weight of it in this chest, the truth of his curse sitting heavy on his tongue.

“yeah… probably,” he says — and the lie is smooth as milk, sweet as just-spun sugar.

“good. then we won’t have long to wait, hm?”

04.

there’s a story, so you’ve been told, of a fox that lives in the woods — and the fox can tell nothing but lies, lest the truth cut open it’s throat. and when it bleeds, because even monsters bleed (oh especially monsters), it will bleed in blue and silver, which everyone knows is the color of magic.

“but why would telling the truth kill it?” you’d asked, your eyes wide and round as the full-bellied moon.

your grandmama had sighed, rocking you in her lap as the forest outside shivers and shakes with the steps and breaths of creatures unseen.

“that’s what curses do, my sweetest… they’re unfair things, they are. and they don’t like to make a lot of sense.”

and that had been that. she’d moved onto a nicer story, a sweeter story, a story that was not so much truth and mostly lies — because the truth, as your grandmama had said, is sharp and unfair and makes so very little sense.

lies are much, much the better for the makings of stories.

05.

he has never complimented you on your dancing, not even once — not in all the years you’ve been dancing for him, by the light of a million and one fireflies.

you’d been eight when you made the promise, it’s been ten years since then.

and at eighteen, you wonder how many more years it’ll be before the moon or the forest or whatever it is that chooses people to curse will take pity on you.

it’s just after sunset, and you’d just finished your customary sunday afternoon picnic. harry is sprawled out on the picnic blanket, his fox-faced mask lying in the soft, long grasses, an arm thrown over his eyes. you wonder if he’s asleep, though you don’t think you’ve ever seen him fall asleep, not in all the time you’ve known him.

“music, please…” you announce to the clearing, and after a long pause, as if the forest itself is coming to life, the wind picks up — the leaves rustle on their branches, the birds sweep up into a twitter wingbeats and song, the grasses around the clearing hish and hush the thrumming baseline to a music that only you and harry and the forest can hear.

slowly, harry pushes himself up, making a show of rubbing his eyes, and in the darkness you can only see the shape of him.

you don’t see the prickle of tears at the edge of his eyes as he wipes them away.

instead, you close your own eyes and wait.

and wait.

and then — at the first flicker of a firefly’s light, you lift your hands and start to dance.

06.

once, you’d asked him how he’d gotten cursed in the first place.

“it’s a long story,” he’d said.

“i’ve got a long time,” you countered.

he’d crinkled his nose, pursing his lips as the pair of you hopped over a narrow stream, him watching as you teetered on the edge of the water.

“hm… well, if you do something a ton of times in the wood… the wood decides that that’s all your good for, and it becomes your curse!”

you’d blinked up at him from over your shoulder, a soft smear of mud on your cheeks.

“oh… it’s that easy?”

“easy?”

“i mean, to get a curse.”

he’d narrowed his eyes, “why would you want a curse?”

you’d straightened up, pressing your palms down your rather sullied dress.

“because — you said that i can’t touch you cause i’m human, right?”

“uh-huh…” harry had nodded, uncertain of where your child-logic had taken you.

“but other cursed things can touch you, right? like the wolves and the shadows and the queen of ravens.”

harry bit his lips. but you seemed to have taken his silence for consent and happily skipped off further into the forest. he’d never corrected you even as he heaved another world-weary sigh and followed after you. because technically, you hadn’t been totally wrong.

and his curse was only that he couldn’t correct you.

07.

your mind wanders as you begin to dance, and these days, it’s been doing a lot of that — wandering. so your grandmama says that it’s a part of growing up — learning when to let your mind wander and when to reign it back in, hold it on a tighter leash and tell it to wander no more. it’s a blessing to be able to let your mind wander, and so you do.

it’s just that these days, you can’t help but notice that it’s less of wandering and more of… well, a straight-shot descent to a well-known destination. and you know from a whole childhood of actual wandering that if you know the way and you know what you’ll find at the end, then it’s not wandering at all.

it’s just going.

but still, you let your mind go where it wants, and lately, it’s been going and going and going... to harry.

harry and his soul-soft laughter, harry and his knife-edge smiles, harry and his loose, lethargic movements, unhurried and always so certain. back when you were both still children, he’d led you through the forest with nothing but his voice, spouting out random facts that were much too outlandish to be true, and later, when you were both a bit older (and you’d long since memorized every bit of forest there was to memorize), he’d walk alongside you in companionable silence.

you knew his favorite trees, his favorite flowers, his favorite birds and colors, his favorite season, his favorite sweet, his favorite fruit and so many others.

and still, it feels as if you don’t know him at all, even though you’re certain he knows everything there is to know about you.

except…

you spin out on the long grasses, the light of a million and one fireflies dancing across your skin, dancing with you, singing with you as the forest does. and above you, a crescent moon cuts a sinister smile into a lonely, starless night.

years later, you’d wonder if the night had known — if the wood had known (of course, of course it had known, because there are no secrets the woods do not know, no secrets the waning moon doesn’t keep from the sleeping earth), if the entire world had conspired against you and for you that night.

when you finish dancing and the last of the fireflies flicker down to rest on the long, soft grasses, you’re breathless with exertion, luminous with exaltation and drunk on the song of the forest and a million and one lightless stars.

in the middle of the clearing, harry is smiling, you can see it even from here, and for the first time since you’d danced for him the very first time, he brings his hands together and claps.

“that was… beautiful,” he says, and his voice is deeper now, supple and sweet with the night air.

“th-thanks! phew — i really think that might do it,” you say, plopping down on the picnic blanket next to him, spreading wide your arms and staring up at the velveteen sky above you.

08.

once, you’d been told another story, though you don’t quite recall who you’d heard it from. maybe your grandmama, and maybe the old man who sits in the village square after all the longest days of the year, smoking his pipe and telling his stories.

“do you know why the cursed forest creatures can’t touch humans?”

“why?” a village boy had asked before you had the chance to.

“because… if a cursed creature touches human flesh, the cursed creature will die.”

“oh…” you said, clutching your hands to your chest, and you’d never really thought about dying. because really, what ten year old in their right mind would? but you knew of the concept from when grandmama talked about grandpapa — how he was there one day and then the next day he just… wasn’t.

“he died in his sleep,” she’d said, a tone of sadness in her voice that you’d never heard there before and wished you’d never have to hear again, “it was the best way to go.”

you’d wondered then if there’s really such thing as a “best” way to go. wouldn't the “best” thing to be not going at all?

“then… do the cursed creatures get to live forever?” you asked, before the village boy could cut in.

the old man took a long sip from his pipe and blew out a few concentric rings of smokes before coughing and waving it all away.

“no… you see, if the cursed creatures get to pass on their curses, they’d get to be reincarnated into being a human once more.”

09.

“do you… really want to be cursed?” harry asks as the pair of you share in the silence after your dance.

you suck in a long breath before pushing yourself up to sit in front of him, careful to keep your knees from bumping his.

“of course i do! it’s… it’s what i’ve been trying to do since i was like — eight!”

“but… why?” and harry’s voice is small, smaller than you’ve ever heard it, even though now, his eighteen year old body should carry a much heavier, harder sound.

“because,” you say, resolute as you’d always been, “once i’m cursed, i’ll be able to touch you.”

“and why… is that so important to you?”

harry casts his eyes towards you; you catch his gaze with yours, holding it steady. and in that moment, you mind lets go of the story that the old man told you. because it was a long time ago, and the story was so, so far away. and sometimes, the mind chooses which truths it wants to listen to, which truths it wants to believe in.

sometimes, it chooses truths that don’t look like truths from the outside in, but from the inside out — they’re the truest things to ever be true.

like this one —

“because i want to touch you. because… it’s what i’ve wanted since i was a little girl. because… sometimes, i think i want to do more than touch you — sometimes —” your voice catches on a hitched breath, lost somewhere in your chest, somewhere between your heart and your throat.

but then, darkness descends over your vision and it takes you a long moment to realize that you’re staring at the inside of a mask, thin but solid — the fox-faced mask that harry always wears.

and then pressure, and warmth, right where the fox’s dagger-carved grin usually is, so close to your own lips you can feel the heat.

it holds for a long, long moment, and then it’s gone.

the light returns as harry tugs the mask from you, grinning that teasing, lopsided grin of his, though there’s something about it tonight that makes your heart seize.

“tell me, one more time…” he says, and his voice is jagged with something that sounds painful and true and so, so terrible.

“i — i want the curse…” you say, before you really realize what you’re saying, and it takes you a moment to realize that this too, is the truth.

“okay then… it’s yours.”

and he leans in to press his lips to yours.

the truth, harry realizes, is always bitter, and harsh, and much too sharp. when he pulls back, he presses his palms to yours and lets the moon wash the clearing in blue and silver. you gasp as you feel the magic creeping into your bones, tugging you under, dragging you through the cracks in the world even as harry is tugged away from you back to the world of the living.

“w-was this all a lie?” you ask, because inside you, your heart is fighting for it’s last few beats.

“no,” harry says, his voice is pained, and his expression even more so, because every truth he tells cuts him a little deeper, and he feels his throat constrict over the words, “your dance really was beautiful… and…”

he swallows hard, feeling the knife-edge of this one final truth slicing through him, sharp as moonlight, sweet as the lightless stars.

“i love you. please… don’t forget me.”

and already, you can feel the truth starting to hurt, starting to constrict inside you like a curse. but still, you force it from you as harry flickers and fades along with the light of a million and one firefly lights.

“i — i won’t.”

10.

“but how exactly do you transfer a curse?” the village boy asked, his voice loud and jarring.

the old man takes another long sip of his pipe, puffs out a few more smoke rings.

“through a kiss,” he said.

you blinked. a kiss?

“ew!” the village boy recoiled then, shrinking back from the thought of kissing — because that’s what children are taught to do at such grown-up concepts as kissing.

you, on the other hand, you stayed right where you are, but a frown has creased your tiny, child-like brow.

“and the trick,” the old man continues, his smile going wide and a little lascivious, “is getting someone who will take their curse willingly… to accept the kiss.”

01.

for as long as harry can remember, there has always been the wood. and in the wood, there’s always been a girl with a fox-painted mask who danced to the light of the fireflies.

once, when he’d gone exploring (even though his grandpapa had warned him time and time again about going into the wood by himself), he’d nearly run into her and she’d cocked her head when he’d fallen face-first near the bank of a tiny stream, smearing mud across his cheeks.

“you’re strange little boy,” the girl said — and she could be no more than his age, harry thinks.

“and you’re a weird little girl,” he counters, his eyes catching on the bright red of the fox’s painted mouth.

there is magic at work here, harry knows, though he doesn’t know what kind, and all he really wants is to explore the woods behind his house, to know all there is to know of the world, and perhaps — he thinks as you turn and make your way deeper into the forest — to one day hold the hand of the girl with the fox-faced mask.

but that’s a wish for another day, he decides as he follows after you, jogging to catch up and ask for your name.

“ah… what’s in name,” you say, you voice light and languid, even as he frowns, “you can call me whatever you like.”

02.

once, harry had asked his grandpapa what the truest feeling in the whole wide world is.

and his grandpapa had answered —

“that, harry, would be falling in love…”

“falling in love?”

“yes, my dear boy — and the thing about love is that it’s like a curse… but it’s also like a blessing.”

“but… how can a thing be a curse and a blessing?”

then, his grandpapa had smiled, a smile that is starlight and wolfsong and all the secrets the forest ever has to tell.

“because we are doomed to always, always fall in love, my boy — and it will always, always be like handing someone and knife and asking them to cut open your throat.”

[sunshine-and-her-ikevil-stuff]

Fic concept!

Alfons angst oneshot when he pushes away the reader so they can be with someone else, but he still has feelings for them.

Alfons and the reader would be getting along really good. Too good. Because Alfons finds his chest fluttering and noticing the way the reader smiles and looks at him, and that you feel the same.

One of the other Crown members (knowing me, I would make this Liam) wants to spend more time with you. And you usually turn in down in favor of spending more time with Alfons.

But Alfons doesn't want you to get attached, the whole "don't go looking for true love in a mirror" type thing. Either for the your own benefit or him not wanting to get attached himself and having to fear the day he loses you and you forget him. So to avoid this and to save the both of you, but especially to save you the pain of getting attached only to have him turn you down, Alfons steps back.

He starts spending more time with his "friends" and errands for Elbert, or at least that's what he tells you. Trusting that the other Crown member will swoop in and spend time with you in his absence.

And it works.

Soon you and the other Crown member spend almost all of your time together, and you doesn't even seem to notice that you hardly ever talk with Alfons anymore.

Eventually you start dating this other Crown member, and you look so happy. So happy that he keeps a close eye on Ellis. You're laughing and talking about maybe getting married some day. And you don't even seem to even remember ever having feelings for Alfons at one point.

And he knows it's for the best, but he can't help but force a smile as he leaves to go to a bar, any bar, when the knot in his stomach that won't go away.

He'll drink. Tell himself it was for the best. All the while imagining how you smiled at him, and how that could have been him.

Like Satisfied from Hamilton but with the vibes of Champaign Problems by Taylor Swift. Though Champaign Problems probably matches too.